The Stars are Projectors
by ohinvertedworld
Summary: Money, power, pride. The life of Draco Malfoy is bound to change as time passes. That is, of course, if he actually allows it to. Warning: eventual slash.
1. Wild Packs of Family Dogs

THE STARS ARE PROJECTORS  
  
Disclaimer: This story is inspired, of course, by the Harry Potter series and the wonderful character of Draco Malfoy that came from it, as well as the music of Modest Mouse. The characters here belong to J. K. Rowling and the titles to Modest Mouse. I own them not.  
  
Chapter One: Wild Packs of Family Dogs  
  
I'm sitting outside by my mudlake, waiting for the pack to take me away.  
  
Once every other year, on a date that had remained unchanged for years, a family reunion of sorts was held at the stately Malfoy Manor in Cheshire, England.  
  
Perhaps, though, it wasn't really appropriate to call it a "family reunion." The Malfoys were by no means loving to those in their bloodline, despite their pride in being part of it, and the Malfoys were rarely sentimental, so this occasion was not often joyous, compared to other family reunions. In fact, it was more often uncomfortable, with the distinct feeling of constant stiffness. Every man wore robes of incredible expensiveness, and every woman came with great amounts of priceless jewelry, while every child (though there were few) acted on strangely proper behavior. From afar, the event might seem spectacular, with mixes of dark blues, greens, and gold with the flashing of precious jewels. From within the walls of the mansion, though, the air was stuffy and awkward to breathe, and upon close examination, one may notice that all of the faces were drawn into tight frowns and scowls, as though the beauty was actually not up to standards. Nonetheless, on July fifteenth, a blonde teenaged boy named Draco Malfoy stood poised and ready to greet his family members as they Apparated one by one in the entrance hall.  
  
"Good evening, young Draco," said Anguis Malfoy. Draco nodded politely as the image of his uncle appeared suddenly to his left, followed immediately by his aunt.  
  
"You look especially dashing tonight, Draco," she said with a strange smirk.  
  
"Thank you, Aunt Potentia," Draco replied, choking back some sarcasm. "You look lovely yourself."  
  
Anguis and Potentia nodded as though Draco somehow satisfied them, and began to walk away. All of Draco's family members, he noted, moved with a beautiful grace that allowed even not-so-attractive people like Anguis and Potentia Malfoy to be a mildly breathtaking sight.  
  
It was not to Draco to ever question tradition. Draco was indeed aware of the great honor in being of the Malfoy name, and enjoyed all that came with that honor. Draco had even inherited the infamously snobby ways of his family, added with some of his own innate sarcasm. Still, Draco couldn't help but think that this little get-together was no more than a way for his family members to show off their enormous wealth to each other every two years. Draco was a little ashamed of this thought, and allowed his Malfoy pride to quickly shove it out of his mind. Even if that was true, he thought, no one would ever be able to touch the wealth of Lucius Malfoy, his father. Draco considered his father, who was standing quietly with his wife and nodding stiffly to his guests, with a slight grin.  
  
Draco felt lucky, mostly, to have Lucius as a father. When Lucius married Narcissa, Draco's mother, the Malfoy name had already provided them with enough money to last them and a family for the rest of their lives. Lucius was greedy in all respects, though, and on the constant look-out for things to make his wealth grow even more. Malfoys were often indifferent to current events, but Lucius heard that the powerful wizard Voldemort paid his loyal followers well, and so he readily joined. Lucius, like all Malfoys, was also indifferent to the pain and suffering of others, which made him perfect for the job. This is how Lucius Malfoy became a very active Death Eater and a ridiculously rich man while beginning a tradition that Draco was expected to follow.  
  
Tradition.  
  
The word echoed painfully in Draco's mind, but failed to stir any thought. Draco attached no emotion to the word.  
  
Draco honored his father as he knew he should, as tradition told him he should, and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco knew his father was a terrible, greedy pig. Actually, in the back of his mind, Draco quietly hated all of his relatives. He just refused to listen to that voice there that said so.  
  
The voice seemed even harder to ignore as he watched his grandmother hold up her hand adorned with an enormous diamond ring for one of his aunts to study with blatantly fake admiration.  
  
"Draco." The very voice of Lucius Malfoy cut through Draco's thoughts, or lack thereof.  
  
"Yes, Father?"  
  
"I believe your great aunt and uncle are waiting for your greeting."  
  
Draco was quite startled to see an elderly and overdressed witch and wizard standing on his right and frowning down upon him.  
  
"Hello, Aunt Castanea. Good evening, Uncle Arborel," said Draco calmly. His eyes burned from the urge to roll with annoyance.  
  
His great aunt and uncle huffed in reply and turned away quickly. Apparently years of Malfoy parties were finally getting to Arborel and Castanea. Or perhaps years of being Malfoys had made Arborel and Castanea even more insufferable than two years before.  
  
Draco could still feel the eyes of his father on him and fought back the need to squirm appropriately.  
  
"Everyone has arrived, Draco," Lucius said, his voice slow and even. "You may join your relatives."  
  
Draco met his father's eyes reluctantly.  
  
"Actually, Father, could I be excused for a moment?"  
  
There was a slight raise to Lucius' eyebrows, as though the question was really quite inappropriate.  
  
"I suppose. But do not take too long; your relatives are impatient."  
  
Draco knew his relatives could actually care less. Teenaged boys rarely showed jealously for designer robes and diamonds.  
  
Draco felt both relieved and awkward as he turned away from his father's gaze and walked quickly down the long hallway. He wasn't sure what he excused himself for, so he felt himself soon wandering through the maze of hallways aimlessly. He watched his feet and the carpet fly underneath them, but soon his pace slackened and he lifted his head. The hallways were lavishly decorated, and priceless works of art were framed and hanging on the walls. Draco barely acknowledged the paintings. Years of watching his mother purchase them and hang them thoughtlessly on the walls had made him indifferent to nearly any kind of art. Draco slid his hands causally into his pockets and lowered his head back to the carpet and his slowly moving feet.  
  
When Draco finally looked up again, he found himself just outside the library. He entered with the slightest shrug of his shoulders.  
  
Draco was actually the only person who ever utilized the library, and it was where he ended up spending most of his time. Literature was one art form that Draco was definitely not indifferent to, and he read passionately. The library itself was incredibly large and bursting with books. Although Draco read a lot, he knew that not in a million lifetimes would he be able to even touch all of the books that library contained.  
  
Draco strolled in slowly, taking in the familiar walls and shelves. Actually, every bit of wall not occupied by a bookshelf was covered in old framed portraits of dead Malfoys who peered suspiciously at him and studied the covers of the books he read as though he was always getting into something he wasn't supposed to. Thinking he had had enough of being surveyed by his family members, Draco avoided their eyes and took a seat on a nearby sofa right next to Nita, who was bathing herself quietly.  
  
Magical animals were often bred for high prices in the wizarding community. They were thought to be much smarter than "average" animals and held a few magical abilities of their own, much to the entertainment of those who owned them. When Draco was a small child, Lucius had bought a magically bred cat for his son, who Draco affectionately named Nita. Lucius bought Nita for Draco out his duty as a father, unaware of joy the cat would actually bring his son. Nita had never shown any obvious evidence of possessing magical powers or unusual amounts of intelligence, but Draco loved his cat nonetheless. Lucius had taught Draco that loving, caring, or showing affection for anything or anybody was both disgraceful and unnecessary, and so Draco was forced to care about his cat in a very secretive manor.  
  
"How's is going, Nita?"  
  
The cat acknowledged the blonde boy by momentarily lifting her head from her own fur.  
  
Draco watched Nita with a sad smile and sighed.  
  
He sat in silence for several minutes, petting Nita absent-mindedly. It was after these few minutes that Draco faced the pictures of his relatives, who looking at him as if he was doing something very wrong. Draco began to feel the tiniest bit guilty.  
  
Draco felt as if his family was always haunting him.  
  
And yet, he didn't really get too tired of it.  
  
He was rich, handsome, and probably envied by wizards all over the world.  
  
As Draco watched the faces of his late family members, he suddenly felt very ashamed for abandoning his living ones. Standing up gracefully, he puffed himself up with his Malfoy pride and left the library with a quick pace.  
  
It was Draco's duty as a Malfoy to be proud, and he quite aware of this fact.  
  
------------  
  
I'd appreciate some comments! 


	2. Teeth Like God's Shoeshine

THE STARS ARE PROJECTORS  
  
By the way, minor changes were made in the previous chapter.  
  
Chapter 2: Teeth Like God's Shoeshine  
  
Oh! If you could compact your conscience and sell it, save it for another time, you know you might have to use it.  
  
Draco Malfoy was not afraid to admit that he was stunningly beautiful.  
  
It was not as though he spent hours admiring his own features in a mirror, but he was aware, so to speak, of them, and knew them to be beautiful as a fact. He was aware of his tall, thin frame and smooth, pale skin. He was aware of his delicate facial features and blonde hair that hung perfectly at his jaw line.  
  
It wasn't as if Draco Malfoy made a habit of bragging about his beauty or anything, but he certainly wasn't going to live in ignorance about it.  
  
When Draco woke on the morning of July sixteenth, the first thing he remembered was the comments of his cousin, Luna Malfoy.  
  
Her eyes had first widened at the sight of Draco in his elegant black (and slightly tight-fitting) dress robes.  
  
"Fucking hell, Draco, if you weren't my cousin, there's no telling what I would be doing to you right now," said she, her face twisted into a sadistic grin. "Or what I'd be letting you do to me." She winked.  
  
Draco could not suppress a grin.  
  
It was probably a rule somewhere that every rich and prestigious family had to contain at least one complete outcast, and so this is how Luna fit into the Malfoy family. She was a twenty-one year-old French rebel in the form of unconventionally gorgeous femininity. Her behavior was never formal, much to the disapproval of her relatives, and her antics had even gotten her expelled from Beauxbatons in her sixth year. Draco couldn't recall exactly why, but he believed it was a combination of drugs and sex in inappropriate places. Indeed, Draco found he could relate more with Luna than anyone else in his family, but he kept his rebellious nature away from the eyes of his relatives and teachers, quite unlike his cousin.  
  
"Seriously, Draco, how old are you? I always forget." She peered at Draco over the top of her wine glass.  
  
"Seventeen."  
  
"Oh." She set her glass down carefully on the table her and Draco were situated at. "So you'll be starting your seventh year next term."  
  
"I suppose."  
  
Luna studied Draco carefully.  
  
"I never made it that far, you know. I'm disappointed. I've failed in corrupting you properly."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Corrupting me properly? Has this been a goal of yours?"  
  
Luna laughed. Draco narrowed his eyes slightly to study her in return. Draco's standards in beauty of girls were high, but Luna seemed to pass. It was funny, though, because Luna had even failed to inherit the normal Malfoy hair color of platinum blonde, and had black and very curly hair. Draco hated dark hair. It reminded him of a boy he'd rather not be reminded of.  
  
But Luna somehow didn't remind him of that damned boy. Her features were bold, sharp, and perfect. He was really quite the opposite.  
  
Luna suddenly leaned forward, lessening the distance between her and Draco's faces.  
  
"It's still a goal, Draco. I've got hope in you yet. Boys like you need to see the world and have new experiences, not be stuffed into expensive robes to spend day after fucking mundane day in some goddamned rich-family world."  
  
Luna's breath smelled strongly of alcohol. Draco had grown to love the smell over the years; for two years before, Luna had shown Draco how to drink, and Draco continued to partake in the activity even after the night of the family reunion had passed.  
  
Luna gathered a bit of Draco's hair coyly into her hand, stroking it gently between her fingers.  
  
"I have something for you."  
  
A few minutes later, Draco found himself sitting on his bedroom floor in front of his cousin as she slowly began to draw things out her pockets.  
  
"This is marijuana," she said, holding up a small bag. "A Muggle drug, actually, easily attainable through --"  
  
"I know what fucking marijuana is, Luna." Draco broke in impatiently.  
  
A look of surprise flashed briefly over Luna's face.  
  
"Of course. Sorry I doubted you, cousin."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"And this." She reached into her pocket and slowly pulled out her hand out, drawn into a fist. When she opened her hand slowly, Draco could see five pills laying peacefully in her palm.  
  
".is Valium."  
  
The name seemed familiar to Draco, but he wasn't sure, so he said nothing.  
  
Luna seemed satisfied to have stumped her cousin at last.  
  
"Valium is not illegal or anything. It's a prescription drug." She rolled the pills gently around her open palm. "It belongs to a family of drugs called Benzodiazepines - they're depressants. Tranquilizers. They're used to relieve anxiety, mostly. Some are like muscle relaxers."  
  
A pause. Draco could feel Luna's eyes upon him, waiting for him to break under the pressure she was slowly easing onto him.  
  
But Draco never got nervous and rarely felt pressure. He knew it would not be very becoming if he ever did.  
  
"So?" Draco said the word with a tone that did not betray his boredom and shifted his gaze from the pills to his cousin's eyes.  
  
"So? Well, potheads like me are bound to try every drug on the market, and this is one of my favorites. A couple of these, well."  
  
She grinned.  
  
"It does the trick."  
  
Draco watched her calmly as she allowed the pills to slowly, one by one, fall through her fingers and hit the carpet in front of her. But Draco hadn't been listening to what she had to say, really, because three words she had said previously had been echoing in his mind.  
  
A Muggle drug.  
  
Draco wondered briefly how he ever gained knowledge about something that was so purely.non-magical..nonetheless -  
  
He refused to let such disgusting Muggle habits leak into his life.  
  
"Luna, I don't think this is the place for that."  
  
Luna's eyebrows raised in some momentary perplexity.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Get it away from me. Get it out of my house.  
  
"I'd hate my parents to discover us."  
  
Luna's lips formed a tight line. For a moment, she nearly looked like a normal Malfoy.  
  
"You weren't afraid last time when we drank alcohol."  
  
Firewhisky. Wizard alcohol.  
  
"I'm afraid that my parents would be much less approving of this." He paused. He considered his next words for a moment. "As would I."  
  
Luna stared at Draco with an utterly vacant expression. Then, with one graceful movement, she swept everything in front of her back into her robes pocket and stood up.  
  
"If this how you want to live your life, fine, Draco. If you want to act like the things in your little world are the only things that exist or matter, then fine. There are other things, you know. Different things; outside the Malfoy Manor, outside the Slytherin House, outside the entire fucking wizard community! And they could make you happier than any of this could!"  
  
She stood there in indignation for a few moments, waiting, Draco thought, for a sign - any sign - that may show the beginning of thought or emotion from her cousin. Draco did not give in to her wants. Right before the door slammed, Draco could barely hear her mutter, "Obdurate piece of shit."  
  
As he found himself alone in his silent room, Draco cleared his throat (the closest sign of nervousness he had ever shown, he noted). Then he shook his head, gave a small chuckle, and left his room to bid farewell to his relatives as they Disappated one by one out of the entrance hall.  
  
As Draco recalled the night's events, he became aware of a small piece of paper sitting next to him on his bed.  
  
Everyone gets one last chance, I reckon. I left you a bit in your bottom dresser drawer.  
  
-- Luna Malfoy  
  
Draco's mind was momentarily blank.  
  
After a few more minutes of staring at the paper, Draco threw aside the blankets and jumped out of bed. A few steps brought him to his dresser, and he kneeled down to open the bottom drawer.  
  
It took some digging, but he eventually extracted the small bag of pot and beneath it he could make out paper, a bag of a few pills, and a lighter. Despite himself, Draco's heart raced wildly in his chest.  
  
He realized that there, in his hand where the little bag lay, Luna had left him her definition of the meaning of life.  
  
Rebellion.  
  
New experiences.  
  
Silence hummed lightly in Draco's head.  
  
He decided he would ponder all of this later.  
  
------------  
  
A few weeks later, on an early Thursday morning, a high pitched scream tore through the halls of the Malfoy Manor.  
  
A house elf had the unfortunate experience of discovering Margaret Nichols, Draco's nanny since infanthood, dead in her bathtub.  
  
And screamed for nearly two minutes straight.  
  
Draco missed this, of course, since he was sleeping soundly in his bedroom on the third floor. He was slightly surprised then, and even irritated, when he received the message from another house elf (the one who came across poor Madam Nichols would be in shock for several days) that his father wished to see him immediately in his study.  
  
Lucius Malfoy's study was always where he did "business" and had meetings with "co-workers." It was a very large room occupied by desks, sofas, bookcases with boring books such as "Arithmancy for the Extremely Advanced Mind" that were only for show and never touched, and a very large fireplace. Draco was only allowed into the room if he was personally invited by Lucius himself.  
  
Draco found his father at a desk, writing elegantly on an envelope with a large snowy owl perched nearby and watching him impatiently.  
  
Lucius acknowledged his son with a terse, "sit," without looking up. Draco situated himself in a large cushioned armchair and stretched his legs out lazily in front of him. He could see his shiny black shoes from below the hem of his robes this way, and admired them. He'd put them on in subconscious hopes of impressing his father; a small thing, perhaps, but years of failing to get any kind of reaction from Lucius had made him stoop to desperate levels - or as desperate as the lackadaisical Draco Malfoy was ever going to get.  
  
At last Lucius tied his letter to the owl's leg and let it fly out the open window before standing and facing Draco.  
  
"Draco," said he. "I am unsure if you are aware, but Madam Nichols is no longer with us."  
  
Draco's mask of placidity dropped temporarily.  
  
"She died?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
This news did not come as too big of a surprise to Draco. Margaret was so old that she could barely get out of bed, let alone watch over Draco constantly or even ascend the stairs to Draco's room on the top floor, and her purpose as a nanny had thus been lost. Still, Margaret Nichols was a constant in Draco's life for as long as he could remember, like a piece of artwork that was always in your home but you never paid any attention to it, and it surprised you when you realized it was still there. In this sense, Madam Nichols was a piece of artwork that was always yelling at Draco about his dress, posture, speech, or cleanliness. Draco paid no attention to her nonetheless.  
  
There had been a time, though he could hardly remember, when Draco was an infant or toddler or small child that was completely in Madam Nichols' care because his real parents were too "busy" for their son, or in some cases, too lazy. Draco had been raised with Madam's Nichols' constant criticism and sarcasm, where he probably gained his own from. Draco had no feelings for the surly Margaret Nichols, nor did Margaret show any for him, which Draco sometimes wondered at - a women showing no love for someone she had been as much as a mother to.  
  
"She was very old, father."  
  
Lucius sat across from Draco. "I am aware," he replied.  
  
At Lucius sitting, Draco realized this was not all he had to say.  
  
And sure enough, Lucius drew in a breath, as though preparing for a speech.  
  
"It came at an opportune time, you see, Draco. She was very old, and no longer in any shape to care for you."  
  
"Though it's not like I'm still in need of the care of a nanny," Draco broke in.  
  
Lucius suddenly looked very grave.  
  
"And this is what I'm beginning to doubt."  
  
Draco's eyes widened.  
  
"But - what? I'm practically an adult, and I don't need someone to 'raise' me anymore! She hasn't been fulfilling her job for years! Obviously I'm demonstrated that I'm fine without her care."  
  
Lucius shook his head.  
  
"I disagree. Do not think that I'm in the dark about your doings, Draco. I was informed about your detention in your first year at Hogwarts."  
  
"It was given unfairly!" Draco's breathing had sped up considerably. "I saw Harry Potter breaking rules, and didn't know I was as well when I went to turn him in."  
  
"That's not all, though, Draco. I also saw you being quite friendly with that indocile Luna Malfoy at out party." "Luna Malfoy" seemed very difficult for Lucius to pronounce, as though the name was even viler than the actual person.  
  
Draco was unsure of how to respond.  
  
"She is of Malfoy blood, just like all of us."  
  
"Yes, but this blood has apparently rotted in her very veins."  
  
Draco fell into silence.  
  
"Then," - Lucius stood suddenly and began to pace - "I noticed that both of you had mysteriously disappeared. I will not ask what she tried to get you into, but I trust that you are clever enough not to get involved with the insubordination of Mademoiselle Malfoy."  
  
He eyed his son suspiciously.  
  
"Regardless, your actions have not made me think you are ready for independence. I've taken the liberty to begin a search for a new child caretaker. I will inform you when I've made a choice."  
  
Draco left without another word between them.  
  
------------  
  
I would appreciate some comments! 


	3. Dark Center of the Universe

THE STARS ARE PROJECTORS  
  
Chapter 3: Dark Center of the Universe  
  
Dry or wet ice, they both melt and you're equally cheated.  
  
"What is it about people that make them so goddamned stingy about their trust?"  
  
Quiet footsteps from the story above. Silence.  
  
A sigh.  
  
"I'm sure you know."  
  
Silence.  
  
"But I certainly don't."  
  
The cat was looking at him thoughtfully, and from staring into the cat's eyes in a mesmerized state for the past few minutes, he knew that the cat was saying a lot. But he couldn't hear it. He couldn't understand it.  
  
He often felt both calmed and frustrated by his cat's presence.  
  
Draco was, as he did often, talking to Nita in the depths of the library. Nita always sat up straight and maintained eye contact with Draco as he spoke, and he was sure that she was indeed listening and understanding every word. She would even respond appropriately to what he said - for example, she would curl up in his lap when he was angry for a calming effect or when Draco was in a particularly thoughtful mood, as he was at the moment, she would become serious and look as though she was pondering his questions as well.  
  
What had put Draco in his current mood was the message he'd received from his father a few hours before. It had been nearly a week since he met with Lucius in his study, and he informed him that he had decided on a new nanny. Draco had been angry at his father's words at the time of the meeting, but had forgotten them easily, thinking Lucius wasn't being completely serious. Perhaps he was concerned about Draco's behavior, but he wouldn't bother with the trouble of actually hiring somebody new.  
  
But Draco was wrong, and Lucius was serious. It confirmed what a tiny voice in Draco's head had been whispering irritatingly over the past few days and making him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.  
  
His father did not trust him.  
  
Draco was angry about this. Nobody ever trusted him. It wasn't as though Draco was some completely corrupt hooligan or anything. He was a normal teenager and deserved a little respect.  
  
Draco's thoughts turned to his schoolmates. They had learned from the beginning not to trust Draco - he would do anything to get a rise out of people for his own benefit and disregard the wellbeing of others. There was nothing wrong with that, though; it was all fairly harmless fun in the long run. In most cases, anyway.  
  
As they often, his thoughts turned to Harry Potter. Obviously Potter didn't trust Draco. But what would he do if he had Harry Potter's trust? Or Weasley and Granger's? Why, he could turn their lives inside out.  
  
And what satisfaction that would bring.  
  
He realized, though, that earning Potter's trust was impossible. He'd done too much damage already; that boy would never have a change of heart. Anyway, he was far too lazy to be nice to Potter - the cruelty came naturally and was enjoyable enough.  
  
Draco realized then that perhaps his behavior did not really reflect that of somebody who could be considered trustworthy. The fact was, though, that whether or not he was trustworthy was irrelevant; he just wanted trust and was going to get it regardless.  
  
"I wonder what kind of person Father hired."  
  
Nita closed her eyes as Draco scratched the top of her head. He really did wonder, though; it seemed impossible for anybody to meet Lucius' fastidious standards.  
  
Draco decided that it didn't really matter. A new nanny at this stage in his life was pointless and he could easily be ignored. He was just bothered by the fact that he had even failed to maintain the trust of his own father.  
  
Plus, Draco would be returning to Hogwarts in a month. It would be another week before the new person arrived. Once Draco was gone, he wouldn't return until Christmas, and maybe after graduation, he could leave the manor entirely. There was really no point to that, though. The manor was the nicest home he could possibly ask for.  
  
His father probably had plans for him after graduation, anyway.  
  
Draco reluctantly abandoned his thoughts, deciding it was not really doing him any good, and picked up the book he had sitting on his lap.  
  
"You realize that all the reading you do could eventually damage your vision, Draco."  
  
Draco looked up, startled, to see his mother standing in the library doorway.  
  
"Huh?" Draco managed to say.  
  
Narcissa took a step into the library, looking around it with a scowl.  
  
"You could strain your eyes over those worthless books. I hear that vision- repairing spells are both unreliable and unpredictable, so you might have to wear glasses. You'd be the first Malfoy in generations to have their appearance marred by glasses."  
  
Draco closed his book cautiously, trying to calm down. He was quite flustered for a moment, mainly because he was rarely interrupted while reading.  
  
"Just because you are born with good vision doesn't mean you'll always keep it, Mother. Eyesight deteriorates naturally as a person ages."  
  
"Ah, yes," said she. "But it is a fact that even the most elderly of Malfoys have not had their vision fail them. Your grandfather told me that once. Why don't you do something useful, like come with me to buy new furniture for this library? It's disgusting. Look at that chair! It's practically falling apart."  
  
The Malfoys on the walls were all looking at each other in alarm at the prospect of the library being redone.  
  
Draco stood up. "Uhm, no thanks, Mother. Maybe I'll try to finish up some of my homework."  
  
Narcissa was studying the sofa Draco had just abandoned.  
  
"Well, alright, Draco. But take care. I'll refuse to listen to you when you come telling me you can't see."  
  
A picture of himself in small, round glasses flashed in Draco's mind. It looked disturbingly like Harry Potter. He shuddered.  
  
------------  
  
Draco did go to his room, and did take out some of his school books and papers, but after staring blankly at it all for nearly 20 minutes, he decided it was really the last thing in the world he wanted to do.  
  
Draco's room was feeling a bit stuffy, and the thought of the night air outside seemed inviting. After his shutting all his books and making a neat stack at the corner of his desk, he left the room and began the long journey down the flights of stairs and out through the door to the back of the property.  
  
The Malfoy Manor consisted of a huge amount of beautiful property that was rarely enjoyed. The mansion itself, which sat in the front with the land stretching out behind, was gigantic, gothic, and intimidating. Draco himself went through stages when he was small where he was afraid of some of the various gargoyles that decorated the outside of his house, though he certainly wouldn't admit it.  
  
Draco often found the daytime outdoors to be annoying, so he didn't venture outside often during daylight, unless to practice Quidditch. But he was, for some reason he couldn't explain, enthralled by the nighttime. He would sometimes get unpredictable urges to go and feel the cold breezes, or listen to the quiet night noises, or look up at the moon and stars with a sense of awe that he didn't dare mention at anybody.  
  
Once Draco stepped outside and felt the cool night air, he felt refreshed. He walked a bit away from the mansion (until he was sure his figure was well hidden in the darkness from anyone looking out the windows), and lifted his head to look at the sky. Draco was often astounded by the amounts of stars in the sky. They all looked like tiny lights floating in a sea of black, and he tried to imagine what they looked like from up close. He imagined enormous flaming balls of gas. To Draco Malfoy, that was beauty.  
  
Draco once had a close friend who knew everything, it seemed, about astronomy and such, and they would stay up late at night laying with their backs against the grass and looking at the sky. Draco listened to every word his friend ever said about the moon and stars; he was really the only person Draco ever listened to. But Draco's friend had disappeared into the depths of Durmstrang and emerged after one year a completely unrecognizable person. Maybe that's why Draco liked the nighttime so much - it reminded him subconsciously of something he could no longer enjoy. Consciously, though, Draco was so angry at his old friend that he managed to effectively drown out the memories of them together.  
  
It was after a few minutes of looking at the stars that Draco became aware of a person standing silently at his right.  
  
"You know, there's always been a lot of speculation about what the stars really are."  
  
Draco jumped back a couple feet, and was so shocked, he couldn't even manage to make a sound to match his surprise.  
  
It was an elderly lady, perhaps in her seventies, standing there with her head back and looking at the sky much like Draco was. Her hair was long, grey, and braided, and the dress she wore was a plain blue and looked rather old.  
  
Once the initial shock died down a little bit, Draco, who had gotten used to wealthy style over the summer months, thought suddenly that a homeless person had wandered onto his land.  
  
The lady turned and looked at Draco with a smile. "You must be Draco."  
  
Draco stuttered for a moment. How did she know that?  
  
"Who the hell are you?"  
  
She didn't reply. A smile still stretching her features, she tilted her head and turned her gaze back to the stars.  
  
"A young man I once traveled with - what was his name? Maxwell, I think. He told me the stars are little punctures in a long black sheet that the sun shines through while it hides at night. I found that a rather interesting take. What do you think, Draco?"  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
Draco looked around desperately, as though searching for someone to take her away.  
  
She was silent for a moment, though it didn't seem as if she was listening to Draco at all. Her gaze hadn't shifted.  
  
"Myself, I've always thought that they're little holes that our lives are being played through - an individual star for every person. Like those things that muggles play films with."  
  
"Projectors?"  
  
"Yeah, that's it. And the stars are up there every night, just to tease us with their knowledge. They know everything about us, and what the future holds for us. I know they do."  
  
Another silence between them. Draco had no idea what to do.  
  
"So," she said, finally tilting her head back in Draco's direction. "What do the stars mean to you?"  
  
Draco was so flustered (and uncharacteristically at that, which made him even more so), that he gave somewhat of a reply.  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
She frowned. "You don't know? You're awfully old not to. Were you trying to figure them out when I arrived?"  
  
"No! I mean - I already know what they are."  
  
"Oh!" The lady grinned and crossed her arms with movements that seemed to show great confidence. "What do you think, then?"  
  
Draco began to feel a little irritated.  
  
"What do I think? No, they're just stars! I mean, things like this are scientifically explained. I know what they are."  
  
"Why do you bother staring at them, then, if you already know all the secrets they possess?"  
  
"I don't know. I just know facts."  
  
"I see." Now it was her turn to look annoyed. "What exactly makes a fact? What is truth?"  
  
"It's proven."  
  
"By you?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Then how do you know? These so-called facts are boring, I think. If you can't be for sure, why not have a little fun?"  
  
"I don't know! Who the hell are you, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, I'm Heidi," she said at last, offering Draco her hand. "Your new nanny."  
  
------------  
  
Heidi Wegelin was born in Southern Scotland in the early nineteen-thirties and had the appropriate Scottish accent. She left home young and traveled throughout the UK for years, stopping to take on varying professions or even enroll in small Muggle universities to study music. Heidi was a devoted clarinet and banjo player, and kept her beloved instruments in her pocket (with the help of a shrinking spell, course) along with reeds in case she ever felt the need to play. She liked flowers and sculptures, but couldn't stand plastic products and Quidditch. All of this information, and much more, was presented to Draco in detail by the old lady before he even reached the steps to his house.  
  
Draco took some offence to some of the things she said, particularly about Quidditch being a "sport for violent idiots," but couldn't manage to fit a word in between Heidi's. Draco was feeling more than a little irritated when he heard the brief silence behind him and quickly took the opportunity to break in.  
  
"Listen, lady -"  
  
"Heidi."  
  
Draco had his hand on the doorknob.  
  
"-Heidi, if you really are here for the job, I can take you to my father, but, truth be told, I doubt he really hired you, so you probably ought to go have a word with him and straighten this out."  
  
Draco had turned his head slightly to get a glimpse at the odd old lady as he opened the door, but his eyes met nothing. He spun around. There was absolutely nobody behind him.  
  
No Heidi Wegelin, just the grass and trees stretching over the Malfoy property under a layer of nighttime darkness. Draco blinked.  
  
Shrugging off his own confused thoughts, Draco turned and walked through the open door and closed it quietly behind him.  
  
------------  
  
Weeks passed without another word or appearance from his supposed nanny. Draco wasn't sure if he was crazy or if he had just had a confrontation with a crazy person, nor was he sure which was worse, so he mentioned what happened to nobody. Draco's thoughts became more preoccupied with the upcoming school year, anyway. The day before he would be making the trip to the train station and then to Hogwarts, Draco was feeling a bit confused. He wasn't sure if he felt happy or what about his last year at Hogwarts, so rather than think through his feelings logically, he grabbed his broom and went outside for a ride to get his mind off it entirely.  
  
And it was at this time, of course, as Draco was dismounting his broom after a good half an hour of flying, that Heidi chose to appear again.  
  
"You're a really fabulous flier, Draco!"  
  
Draco jumped at the voice behind him, but was even more startled when he turned and his eyes met those of the old lady.  
  
"I used to fly a bit myself, you know. Good relaxation and such. They also make a good, quick getaway when those riots and protests get out of hand! Oh, I used to be quite the protestor in my day. Do you fly for leisure, Draco?"  
  
"Er, no. I play Quidditch mostly."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Draco looked the woman over. Her clothes were much neater, not to mention cleaner, than last time he saw her. Despite the little disappointment in her voice at Draco's reply, she still had a smile on her face.  
  
"Uhm, Heidi, perhaps you should consider talking to my father before -"  
  
She waved her hand knowingly. "Done already. He told me I could find you out here and we could become better acquainted."  
  
Draco thought the last thing he wanted to do was get "better acquainted" with this old lunatic.  
  
"Right, well, I start school tomorrow, so..."  
  
"That's fine! I'll being seeing you during the holidays, I'm sure." She winked.  
  
"I ought to go pack some more, then..."  
  
"Right, off you go." She winked again.  
  
Once in his room, Draco began absent-mindedly rummaging through his closet and drawers, checking to make sure he had forgotten nothing. Nita sat down gracefully on Draco's bed and watched as his hands sifted through the things in his bottom dresser drawer. When his hand came out with a small bag, Nita's interest seemed to heighten.  
  
Draco smirked as he studied the leafs laying peacefully inside the shiny clear plastic. He had forgotten to ponder Luna's words and actions - though he guessed it didn't really matter. He doubted he'd ever be able to take his cousin seriously again, with the memory of how ridiculous she looked as she raged and yelled still fresh in his mind. Plus, thought was often just a waste of time.  
  
He laughed quietly as he turned to his cat, bag still clutched in his hand.  
  
"Have Muggles nothing better to do?"  
  
The bag made the softest thudding noise as it landed neatly in the trashcan.  
  
------------  
  
Comments appreciated... 


End file.
